Love Until We Bleed
by LottaCharlene
Summary: AU: Arthur isn't as invulnerable as it always seems, but he can handle his own problems just fine. Of course this only until Eames opens the door instead of Ariadne and discovers a secret, Arthur never dared to tell anyone.
1. Fight

A/N: This is an AU, so the characters are little bit OOC, I'm afraid. This fic also deals with domestic abuse, so be warned. I'm sorry for turning Robert into such a bastard, but he somehow fitted perfectly for that role ^^ Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Destruction lay around me from a fight I could not win**

"This is going to be a catastrophe", Ariadne murmurs as she watches Arthur and their new colleague snapping at each other.

"Probably", Cobb agrees, "but what else should I've done? He's good and we needed another detective."

Ariadne just gives him a look, which says Cobb _exactly_ what he should have done – making Arthur part of the decision, for example – but otherwise stays silent.

Cobb sighs. He better gets over to Arthur and Eames, otherwise blood will paint the walls, he has no doubt.

* * *

Over the next weeks, Eames becomes involved as a full team member. He gets to know Yusuf, their forensic specialist, and Saito, their respective lawyer. He takes part in current investigations and everybody has to admit that Eames is talented, gifted even. He helps a lot to progress faster, adds new information and has quite a fresh view towards the problems and questions of a case. Everyone has to acknowledge that Eames is definitely a plus for the team. Even Arthur treats him with an indifferent professionalism, which is the only sign for respect towards Eames that he will ever show him, because Eames is still some kind of bastard annoying the hell out of Arthur. Ariadne sometimes thinks that in some occasions he actually _flirts_ with Arthur – in a very obscene and inappropriate way.

Eames is in fact the epitome of obscene and inappropriate. His choice in clothes is awful, he gives a shit about legal restrictions, and he sleeps with their witnesses. Not all of them, of course. But if there is a nice girl or guy during their investigation, you can bet your morning coffee that they get laid by Eames. All this causes some trouble for their agency, but most of all it pisses Arthur off. Sometimes Ariadne thinks that is the only reason, why Eames does what he is doing. To ruffle Arthur's feathers. Ariadne wonders, if Eames just has gotten seven years old and then only grown all big and muscular.

* * *

Ariadne is entirely convinced that this is true for over two years. That is, until Eames takes her out dancing to cheer her up after her stupid boyfriend Jason just has broken up with her.

They lean against the bar, Eames with a beer in his hands, Ariadne with some fruity cocktail that contains too much alcohol for her taste. They are both scanning the crowd, making snide remarks on overdressed girls and overconfident guys.

Suddenly Eames leans closer to her.

"Is this Arthur over there?"

Ariadne almost misses his words due to the loud music, but she looks in the direction in which Eames gently tilts her head. As soon as she catches sight of Arthur and his companion, she glowers.

"Why's he with this dick again?", she hisses.

"Who? The pale with brown hair?", Eames asks sounding far too curious, but Ariadne doesn't care enough in that moment to notice.

"Yeah. That's Robert. Robert Fischer." She almost spits the name out. "He's an arrogant bastard, values money over people. He's a cold-hearted asshole and Arthur deserves something better than _this_. I never understood, what he sees in him."

Eames takes a sip of beer. "Why, I thought Arthur is just as cold-hearted."

Ariadne glances at him as if he has asked a very stupid question. "Don't mix up his professionalism with arrogance, Eames. Arthur cares a lot about the people he loves."

"Not me, obviously."

Ariadne nips at her cocktail. "Well, you haven't been very loving either."

Eames doesn't say anything to this. After a while he asks: "How long have they been together?"

Ariadne shrugs. "Don't know. Four years or something. It's kinda on off."

"Four years? But why is he still with him, if that Robert is such an asshole as you say he is? Arthur is a pretty intelligent man, who …" He trails of as Ariadne gives him a sad smile.

"I don't know, but I think he can't let go."

* * *

After that they drink, talk about other things, laugh and even dance a little, but Eames' eyes never leave Arthur. Arthur, who looks lost and almost vulnerable as Robert chats cheerily with other people. He stays next to Robert, but Robert doesn't spare him a glance. Eames is suddenly furious, because there is Arthur – Robert's _boyfriend_ – and all Robert does is flirting with some blonde girl.

Arthur and Eames may not be the best friends, but Eames has a deep respect for Arthur and his skills to dig up every little detail he can find about a mark, even if it never seems as though Eames respects Arthur all along. Eames also may be a dick at some point, but he always knows his limits. He wouldn't do anything to hurt anybody of his team, because for him, they are his second family. That idiot Robert doesn't even deserve to stand close to Arthur and not be lost in his amazing brown eyes.

So, it is quite logical for him to walk over to Arthur, slip an arm around his narrow waist and kiss a very confused looking Arthur on the lips. Eames will never forget the taste of rum still lingering on Arthur's lips, nor the little surprised gasp he makes. As he withdraws, he can feel Robert staring daggers into him, but he ignores him and whispers 'Hello, darling' into Arthur's ear.

Arthur is staring wide-eyed at him as Robert grabs one of Arthur's wrists to drag him flat against his chest.

"I think we should go now, Arthur", he hisses while still murdering Eames with his eyes. They are gone before Arthur could say one word.

Ariadne appears out of the blue beside Eames. "What was _that?_", she asks in a flat tone.

"Well, Robert finally noticing that he has a gorgeous boyfriend, I presume."

Ariadne gives him a queer look, before she sighs and asks, now sounding tired: "Can we leave, please? I've seen Jason somewhere …"

"Sure, love", Eames agrees immediately. He still wonders, if he just crossed a line. Because kissing Arthur …

Eames stops mid-thought as he hears Ariadne's stifled sobs. He puts a reassuring arm around her shoulders and walks her home. He soothes her, pats her hair, listens and makes some tea. He stays at her tiny apartment until she is under her covers, worn but calm again.

"You can stay on the couch, if you want", she mumbles before sleep takes her. Eames just smiles and closes the door behind him. He really stays, because it is raining outside and the thought of walking home in that weather isn't very appealing. So he zaps through the TV channels and drifts off half to sleep on Ariadne's very comfy couch as a knock at the door startles him awake again. He considers first not to answer it, but as the knock comes again, he gets to his feet. He doesn't want for Ariadne to wake up.

He opens the door expecting a neighbour or some kids – hell, even _Jason_ – but definitely not a bleeding Arthur.

"Darling", he croaks out, throat suddenly dry.

Arthur looks as though he wants to turn around and run, but his body betrays him. His knees give in and he slumps against Eames.

Eames says nothing, just drags him into Ariadne's apartment. He parks Arthur on the couch to get the first aid kit from the bathroom.

"What are you doing here?", Arthur asks, sounding a little muffled through his swollen lips.

"Ariadne needed a shoulder to lean on", Eames answers easily while cleaning Arthur's face carefully with a damp cloth. Arthur doesn't flinch even when Eames can tell that it hurts.

"Still doesn't explain why you're here."

"Haha. Very funny, love. I'm not a heartless monster, you know."

Arthur doesn't say anything to this. He lets Eames take care of his swollen lips, the nasty cut at his right temple and his bruised cheekbone.

"Do you have any other injuries?", Eames asks, as he has finished fixing Arthur's face as good as he can. There will be purple bruises, no matter what.

"Maybe you're not heartless, but you're cruel", Arthur says and Eames is a little taken aback from his words that come out of nowhere. "You're calling me darling and love and whatever, but you're making fun of me, even in front of clients. You don't take me seriously, you override me, and you mock me and make me look absolutely ridiculous just for your own entertainment! And on top of that you have the cheek to kiss me in front of my boyfriend! If this is what you call 'humour' than I don't find it very funny!"

Arthur's voice gets angrier with every word he says and in his eyes glows a dangerous spark, which Eames has never seen before. He squirms under that glare.

"Arthur, you must believe me that I never intended –"

"Oh, of course you never intended it to hurt, but it does, Eames!", Arthur snaps. "Or does this look as if it doesn't fucking hurt?!"

Arthur points angrily at his face and there are tears in the corners of his eyes now.

And suddenly it clicks. Eames stares at him, because it just couldn't be. He has seen Arthur fighting, with his fists and with his gun. He is not an easy one to take down, because he is fast and shockingly precise. He may not be as strong as Eames, but his kicks are calculated and efficient; he is deadly calm when he shoots. He is tough and tireless and will always fight til the end, never one who gives up easily. And yet there is a bleeding Arthur sitting in front of him.

Arthur sees the horror that creeps into Eames' eyes and something inside him snaps.

"This is all your fucking fault! I hate you, you bastard!"

Arthur kicks him viciously in the chest, so Eames topples backwards. He is shocked and surprised, because he has never seen Arthur so emotional before. Usually Arthur is the personification of sharp, cool and collected.

Arthur runs for the door, but Eames is right behind him, catching Arthur's waist. Eames is thrumming with rage right now. Not at Arthur, but at the asshole, who has hurt Arthur like that, because it isn't just the physical wounds. Punches like that go much deeper.

"Let go of me!", Arthur demands and struggles against his grip. Eames is slightly worried that they may wake Ariadne up.

"No", Eames says firmly, but calm. He grabs Arthur by his shoulders and turns him around. The sight of tears on Arthur's stubborn face nearly lets him loose his grip.

"Arthur", he says instead, "I might be a bloody bastard sometimes and I'm very sorry for teasing you. I really am. But I would never ever raise my hand against you like that shitting asshole Robert, who claims to be your boyfriend. He should be fucking thankful that he has the honour to have you beside him. He should lay the world with all its wonders to your feet. He should worship you, because you're the most incredible man I've ever met and it's not easy to make me say that. He should be grateful that he is allowed to get lost in your eyes whenever he wants and he should make you smile every day at least once, because I doubt that anyone wouldn't find your dimples absolutely adorable. He should love you with all his being, and not beat the shit out of you!"

Eames breathes heavily. Arthur stares up at him, unblinking. Then he drops his gaze and the words he murmurs are almost to quiet for Eames to her.

"I'm not worth any of this."

Eames gently grabs Arthur's chin and pushes it up, so Eames can look him in the eyes, if Arthur wouldn't avoid his gaze.

"Arthur, look at me", Eames says softly.

Reluctantly Arthur obeys.

"You are worth all of this and more. I don't know you very well, but that's because I don't understand you and I admit that it frustrated me to no end that I wasn't able to look behind your mask of stoic professionalism. So I did the only thing that came to my mind: I irritated you. Not very clever, I know. But I do know that every man, who's as brilliant as you, should get all the love and respect he deserves."

Arthur doesn't say anything. Eames brushes carefully Arthur's tears away with his thumb. Arthur's eyes flatter close and maybe that's why he finds the courage to ask his next question.

"Do you respect me?"

"Yes." No hesitation. No underling smugness. Utter honesty.

Arthur drags in a shaking breath. "Promise me to never tell anybody about this."

Eames sighs. "Promise."

"And don't go after Robert."

"…"

"Eames!"

"But …"

"I can handle this on my own, ok?"

"Yeah … ok. Promise."

"Can you take me home?"

"Of course, darling."


	2. Fear

A/N: ok, early update ^^ I'm sorry, this is shorter than the chapter before, but I'll make it up to you by posting the next chapter on Wednesday or something :)

* * *

**Chapter 2: For the fear inside my heart won't disappear**

To Arthur's surprise Eames holds his word. The next Monday, when Arthur walks into the office with a face shimmering in all colours of the rainbow, Ariadne drags in a shocked gasp and Cobb wants to know immediately, what the hell happened. Arthur says something about a fight with some drunken dickheads, who were attacking Robert and him. Eames glowers at that, but doesn't say a word. Arthur goes back to his work as if nothing has happened and waves Cobb off, who insisted on Arthur going home.

There isn't much to do at the moment. They just have a minor case of a cheating wife. Eames and Cobb go to interview some of the wife's friends. Arthur stays and tries to track down the wife's credit card transactions – on the legal way this time. Ariadne pretends to do some administrative work, but she actually wants to keep an eye on Arthur. He is quieter that usual, giving no ironic remarks, barely a grunt at Ariadne whenever she says something.

Ariadne knows that there is something seriously wrong with Arthur, when Eames and Cobb return with a cup of take-away coffee for each of them. Eames sets down Arthur's coffee on his desk together with the last of Eames' cinnamon doughnuts. Arthur looks up in surprise, eyeing the doughnut and then Eames. Instead of commenting on the gesture, Arthur accepts the treat with a quiet 'Thank you'. Eames' smile is – _gentle_?

Ariadne is about to say something, when Cobb grabs her by the elbow, pushing simultaneously a coffee cup into her hand, and leads her to the kitchen.

"I just can't find my mug anymore! I tell you, if Yusuf has taken it again to 'save' some disgusting maggots that were crawling over a dead body just _minutes_ ago, I can tell you, I'm going to let him suffer!"

"Cobb", Ariadne starts, totally confused and a little angry with her oblivious boss. Arthur has a serious problem going on and all he is interested in is his _mug_?

In the kitchen, Cobb lets suddenly go of her elbow and turns around. His face is too serious for a mug discussion. So he has noticed after all.

"Do you know anything?", he asks her.

Ariadne shakes her head. "I thought you could tell me what's going on."

Cobb sighs. "Eames clearly seems to know what's wrong with Arthur, but when I asked him, he said he couldn't talk about it. I don't know what worries me more – Arthur, who doesn't want us to know who's really beaten him up, or Eames, who knows something and rather stays silent then to tell the team. Because when someone did that to Arthur – and don't tell me you believe the story about drunks – he's going to get a payback from all of us. I don't mean that you should beat somebody up, Ariadne, but you know my motto. We are family. I take something like that personally."

Ariadne nods, deep in thoughts.

"What is it?", Cobb asks, because he knows the look on her face very well.

"I know only one person, who Arthur would defend this fiercely."

Cobb squints at her. Then he lets out a heavy sigh, which he doesn't even know he is holding. Cobb starts pacing around the tiny kitchen, rubbing his hand over his face.

"I don't understand him. What the hell sees Arthur in this guy? He's not good for him, Ariadne!"

"Don't tell me! I've known Arthur for only four years – as long as they've been 'together' and I never liked Robert, but I always thought that as long as he would make Arthur happy, I could live with it. But he never seemed very happy to me. I know, he's a very private person, but sometimes he had that look in his eyes … and it wasn't happiness." She plays with the lid of her coffee cup. "So … what are we going to do?"

"I don't know. As long as Arthur doesn't want to talk about it, we can't do much."

"But he needs our help! This can't go on, Cobb!"

Cobb shrugs helplessly. "He doesn't want our help at the moment, I'm afraid. If we go out now and bother him with our worries and questions, he will entirely shut himself off from any reasonable advice and we will never have a chance."

"And until he comes to us and asks for our help we just let him alone with this … this monster?!" Ariadne struggles to find the right words, because she feels so angry that she can't do anything for Arthur and is dammed to just stand there and watch him suffer.

"At least, he seems to have Eames on his side. Although I have no idea, how this happened."

"He better doesn't screw it up", Ariadne growls and takes a sip of her now lukewarm coffee.

* * *

Later that afternoon, when Arthur has given in to Cobb and has gone home earlier than usual and Cobb is on the phone with the client, Ariadne makes a beeline to Eames' desk.

"You!", she says and points an accusing finger at him.

Surprised, Eames looks up from his papers.

"You tell me _right now_ what the hell happened to Arthur!"

Eames doesn't even try to be oblivious. "I can't. I promised him."

Ariadne feels as if she needs to explode or slam Eames' face into his desk to beat some sense into him.

"Why the fucking hell won't you talk to us? We are a _team_, Eames! You can trust us! We're not going to gossip about Arthur, we want to help him!"

"Do you think this is easy for me?", Eames shoots back. "Seeing him like this? But I promised to let him handle this on his own, so I will. But that doesn't mean I'll forget who did this."

Ariadne regards him with a searching glance. "So it was Robert?"

"I didn't say anything like that." But the pointed look he gives her is answer enough.

Ariadne crosses her arms over her chest and digs her nails into flesh to keep herself from screaming in anger and frustration. "We need to do something!"

Eames sighs. "I totally agree with you, poppet, but Arthur won't let us, if we interfere in what he thinks is his business alone. He's stubborn and he's strong, but he went to you to ask for help last Saturday. It was only me, who opened the door. He knows, we'll be there for him, if he decides to tell us. So have a little faith in him that he'll know when he can't fight alone anymore, ok? Besides, I'll have an eye on him."

"Two!"

"Two."

Ariadne snarls. "I just hope this ends well. Don't screw it up, Eames, I dare you!"

"Never in my live." Ariadne has never seen Eames looking so serious before and she feels a little calmer now, knowing Eames has Arthur's back.


	3. Crime

A/N: I wanna know what you think about this one. Seriously! :)

* * *

**Chapter 3: It's a small crime and I got no excuse**

The weeks go by and Arthur's bruises are fading, his wounds healing. Arthur doesn't say anything to the topic and no one else does. But everybody is relieved as Arthur's face becomes its former self again and stays like that. Ariadne is like a hawk watching over Arthur, but she doesn't notice any covered injuries or hidden limping. Slowly, very slowly everyone relaxes.

Arthur even starts bickering with Eames again, but you don't have to be a detective to note that it is far friendlier now, a game rather than a serious argument. Ariadne sees the amused sparkle in Eames' eyes, when he pretends not knowing the word 'specificity'. Arthur rolls his eyes, but there is a small twitch tugging at the corners of his mouth.

All this has the team working better together, more efficient and creative, and right at the moment Ariadne feels very content and happy. When one late afternoon she grabs her coat to leave for the day and she can hear Eames calling Arthur 'darling' again, she isn't very worried. Arthur may be still annoyed when Eames gives him pet names, but it will no longer be a big issue as it was just some months ago.

With Ariadne gone and Cobb already with his kids back home, Arthur and Eames are the last ones in the office. It has been a long day and Arthur is tired like hell. He rolls his shoulders to loosen up his stiff muscles. He can Eames hear chuckle behind him and turns around.

"What?", he asks without much bite.

"It's no wonder you're all tense. I told you at least a thousand times that you should go for a walk every now and then and not sit in front of that thing all day long."

Arthur hums and shuts down the laptop.

"At least Robert can give you a massage. I myself have to walk home to an empty bed", Eames proclaims dramatically. He knows he broaches a touchy subject, but he can't resist. Ever since 'the incident', as Arthur likes to refer to, he is determined to know more details about Arthur's relationship with Robert.

"Robert doesn't do things like that", Arthur says tiredly.

Eames freezes for a second, only his left arm in the sleeve of his jacket. "Why not?", he asks, sounding at ease, but he is suddenly hyper aware.

Arthur shrugs and grabs his own jacket. "He's not the type to cuddle."

Eames frowns, because giving a massage has nothing to do with cuddling. It's more an excellent excuse to touch and caress and maybe do some naughty things.

"But he hugs you, yeah?", he says, making sure to let Arthur hear his smirk.

Arthur turns around and eyes him. The hands in the pockets of his jacket and the hunched shoulders are the only signs that Arthur feels uncomfortable with the topic.

"He's not the type, who shows affection very often, like I said …"

"Does he kiss you?", Eames asks suddenly serious and maybe a little too sharp. But he can't help it. His opinion of Robert is not very high, so he wants to make sure that he treats Arthur the way he should.

Arthur fidgets a bit, but his eyes stay locked with Eames'.

"… Sometimes … I …" Arthur finally drops the gaze as Eames slowly walks closer.

Eames can tell that Arthur gets angry, because every muscle in his body goes tense. And who can blame him? How is it Eames' business, what Arthur and Robert enjoy doing and what not? He clearly doesn't have to tell anything – especially not Eames of all people.

"We fuck, ok?!", he snaps suddenly and looks defiantly up to Eames again like he wants to prove some point. Maybe he expects Eames to be mad at him or Robert or their relationship. But all his anger disappears, when he notices the soft expression on Eames' face. He takes a step backwards, but Eames catches his face with both hands. They are warm and gentle and Arthur's heart stutters.

"It really is a pity", Eames says and his own boldness surprises him. What possesses him to hold Arthur like this? And how can he even think about anything like kissing him again, when Eames remembers very vividly the consequences of his last attempt of kissing Arthur? But Robert is nowhere near them …

"What's a pity?", Arthur whispers although there is no need to.

"That he doesn't like to kiss you. I remember it as a bloody amazing experience." Eames whispers, too. And when has he shuffled closer to Arthur? He doesn't know and he doesn't care, because Arthur's eyes are like melted chocolate and staring right into his own.

"Really?", Arthur breathes. "I can't remember a thing."

"Liar", Eames chides softly. He hesitates a second, but as Arthur's eyes dart form his own to his lips, he can't hold back anymore. Their lips meet in an innocent touch and Eames feels suddenly light as if gravity holds no power over him. Arthur is warm under his lips and although he doesn't kiss back, Eames feels like the happiest man on earth, because Arthur doesn't pull away either. Eames wouldn't mind if the moment would last forever.

But finally Arthur moves and Eames gives his lips free. And then there are Arthur's hands on the lapels of his jacket and they pull him back against Arthur's lips, still soft, but now moving slowly against Eames'.

Eames' heart stops beating and there is only Arthur now. Arthur, who tastes like old coffee and the banana he has eaten half an hour ago. Arthur, who smells like dark wood, a little smoky and somehow exclusive. Arthur's hair is soft at the nape of his neck and his skin warm despite its cool, marble look.

Eames makes a small sound in the back of his throat and Arthur pulls away, breathing as heavily as Eames. His eyes are dark and his skin slightly flushed. He looks absolutely beautiful right now. But Eames knows that he has crossed the line once. Do it again and this thing he has with Arthur – whatever it _is_ – will shatter.

"I'm sorry", he whispers.

Arthur nods, more to himself than to Eames, and smooths out the wrinkles of Eames' lapels, where Arthur has gripped the material tightly.

"Yes … I ... I should go now." He doesn't meet Eames' searching eyes.

"Ok."

Arthur walks away slowly, as though he is unsure of himself. He finally turns half around and looks Eames in the eyes.

"Good-bye … darling", Eames says, sounding a little hoarse.

Arthur smiles oh so slightly as he hears the endearment. Eames smiles, too, but wide and happy, because he knows he hasn't screwed up completely.

"See you tomorrow, Eames."


	4. Breaking

A/N: I'm sorry, this is short, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! :) Thanks for all the support, guys!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Every beginning is breaking its promise**

It is icy winter by now and Eames wonders briefly, where time has gone, because it feels like a lifetime that he works in Cobb's agency. A lifetime that he knows Arthur, though he really doesn't know him at all.

There have been no kisses between them since that day in autumn, no private meetings or anything like that. Eames understands, because Arthur is in a relationship after all. Not one that Eames appreciates, but that doesn't matter. He knows he can't get Arthur, but the man nevertheless fascinates him. He wants to understand, what is happening behind his stoic mask, but he only gets glimpses of what lies underneath. Sometimes that frustrates him to no end and sometimes it spurs him on even more. And always, when he thinks that he has figured Arthur out in one way or another, he will do or say something that makes Eames feel as though he sees Arthur for the very first time.

Eames doesn't know, why he is suddenly so obsessed with the mystery that is Arthur, but he doesn't really care. He cares about Arthur, that he is well and safe, and he wants Arthur to know that he can rely on Eames whenever he needs him; that he is trustworthy. Somehow, this is important.

Of course, Eames will never say anything of this out loud to Arthur. It just happens that sometimes Eames carries his heart on his tongue, even if his mind doesn't know it yet, until the words are spoken. So, when they all head home early enough to still have some daylight instead of the orange glow of the street lamps, because it is the day before Christmas, it happens.

Cobb is already in the car to drive home and bake some cookies with his kids. Ariadne runs for her tram, because she has to catch another train later to drive to her parents and get fed with delicious homemade Christmas treats. Eames stands beside Arthur, who buries his nose deeper into his blue cashmere scarf. Eames has his hands deep in his pockets and he stares absolutely mesmerized up to the sky, which is a bleeding red mixed with crystal clear, icy blue, a hint of a golden glimmer at the edge, where the two colours meet. Behind that, at the other end of the sky, a deep violet turns into the ultra marine blue of the night sky, dotted with stars.

"Wow", Eames says and his breath is a foggy cloud in the air.

"Yeah", Arthur agrees quietly. He is silent for a moment, before he speaks again. "You know, it makes me sad that we – with all our worries and problems and pride and goddamn hubris – often forget that beauty isn't a skinny model wearing the latest collection of designer clothes. Nature's beauty is the purest and most innocent of all, because it shows us that imperfection isn't something bad. It's what makes everything interesting and unique. Everything is beautiful, in its own way. And it is there, right in front of us and most people are too blind to see."

Eames doesn't know, what to say to that. This is again one of those moments, where Arthur's mask slips and reveals something of his true self and it comes absolutely unexpected. Eames doesn't mind, though, because their silence isn't uncomfortable. They watch the sky turn into an even deeper shade of red, than golden until it is only a silver stripe against the overpowering blue-black of the night sky.

"You know, it reminds me of someone I know", Eames says eventually and turns to Arthur.

Arthur gives him a questioning look.

"What you said", Eames clarifies. "That beauty actually is right in front of our eyes and we're looking at it, but don't _see_. Until something happens that makes us see and we wonder how we ever could have been so blind."

"Eames?", Arthur asks still confused.

Eames can't say a thing, because as he looks straight into Arthur's chocolate brown eyes, he suddenly realizes. What he feels for Arthur is much more than the simple fascination for the mysterious. It is more than the mere concern for the well-being of a friend. It is more than a friendly flirt to tease, more than respect for a colleague, more than attraction, because someone just has the looks.

He is in love. The realization hits him like a sledgehammer. His heart hammers in his chest and he is lost in Arthur's eyes, drowning deeper with every second that passes.

"I think, you're beautiful, darling", he hears himself say.

Arthur stares at him, his lips slightly parted and with a flush on his cheeks that is too red to come only from the cold air.

Eames comes closer. He wants to feel Arthur's warmth, he wants to touch him, wants to kiss him again and again, until he dies due to lack of oxygen.

Arthur doesn't move away. His eyes flatter close as Eames' finger brush hesitantly over his numb cheek. He feels Eames' hot breath on his lips and everything in him longs to close the gap and bring their lips together.

But he thinks of Robert and his chest is suddenly tight. He can't do this. It wouldn't be right.

Their noses brush against each other and Arthur knows, Eames' lips are right _there_.

"Merry Christmas, Mr Eames", Arthur whispers in the warm air between them.

He can't look up, can't stand the disappointment and the hurt in Eames' eyes. He feels something inside him shatter as he pulls away. An ice-cold fist clenches his heart and the cold creeps into every bone of Arthur's body. He pulls away from Eames, from his warmth. Eames' hand that has rested at the back of his head, playing with the tips of his curls, slides over his shoulder and drops as if it is dead. Arthur clenches his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling that are suddenly there.

He turns around and trudges through the snow, not looking back. He can't see, where he is going, because the tears are finally falling, hot on his cold face, blinding him.


	5. Cold Ground

A/N: As promised, this one is longer. I'm actually not sorry for what happens here, because it has to. I'm only sorry for Eames' spelling; it hasn'nt improved the slightest.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Miles from where you are I lay down on the cold ground**

The holidays are quite pleasant for Arthur. Of course everything has been decorated by an interior designer and Robert's mansion looks more like an advertisement for an exclusive Christmas catalogue than a warm and welcoming home.

On Christmas Day, they have a party with some of Robert's business friends and Arthur is a little bored, but they leave in the afternoon. Robert and him enjoy the Christmas meal together with Robert's godfather Peter Browning. He keeps discussing necessary steps that have to be undertaken to keep Fischer/Morrow at the leading top of the energy concerns.

Arthur misses his family's Christmas parties that have never been so quiet and boring (thanks to three younger brothers and his baby sister), but at least Robert and him don't argue. They even fuck, when they go to bed.

Robert doesn't kiss Arthur; he kneels behind him and thrusts hard into him. Robert comes first with a loud "Fuck!" and withdraws.

Arthur feels suddenly so lonely as he finishes himself off. He clenches his eyes shut and there is Eames, smiling so smugly at him with sparkling grey eyes, and then he is giving him that _wink_ again, and Arthur comes hard.

He is still panting into the pillows, when Robert returns from the bathroom. Arthur hasn't even noticed, when he disappeared. The mattress is dipping and Robert stretches out on his side of the bed. Arthur's back faces him, because he can't look at him right now. His mind is still with Eames, who says "darling" with that goddamn accent and looks at him like he tries to read a book written in a language he doesn't know, but admires all the same.

"Do you think, I'm beautiful?", Arthur asks suddenly.

"Wha'?", Robert grunts, sounding half asleep.

Arthur pushes himself up on the elbows and looks straight at Robert. "Do you think I'm beautiful?", he repeats calmly.

Robert gives him a sidelong glance. "Why are you asking?"

"Just answer me."

"Yeah, you look attractive, Arthur."

Arthur shakes his head. "No. I don't mean, if I look good. I want to know, if you think me beautiful."

"Where is the difference?" Robert doesn't appear very interested in the topic at all.

Arthur doesn't answer right away, just stares at him. Deep in his heart Arthur has known, what his mind slowly realizes.

"I don't want to be with you anymore. I'm sorry, but I can't", Arthur says slowly and with every word a weight drops from his heart.

"What?" Robert sits up abruptly and glares at him. He looks very awake all of a sudden. Then his eyes are getting darker and Arthur is out of the bed in seconds, but Robert is faster.

He gets hold of a fistful of Arthur's hair and yanks him back, spins him around and smashes his head into the nearest wall. Pain explodes in Arthur's head and he can't see for some fearful seconds. Robert presses him into the wall, while Arthur moans and struggles to escape. He hits Robert's temple with the side of his hand, which gives him room to flee, but Robert's hands are back instantly. Like claws they close around Arthur's neck and shake him, until his teeth clatter uncontrollable together and he can't drag in enough air.

"You want to leave me?", Robert hisses right into Arthur's ear. "You don't want to be with me anymore?" He practically throws Arthur to the ground, where he stays.

Arthur can't move, because the air in his lungs is burning like fire and his limbs won't cooperate. The kick in his stomach comes to soon for Arthur to protect this vulnerable part of him. Arthur chokes on his own breath, struggling to stay conscious. Kicks and hits are raining down on him and his whole body cries out in agony. Robert gets a belt from somewhere and whips it down on Arthur. He tries to protect himself, but it is useless. His skin cracks open and blood gushes every time Robert hits him again and again.

At some point, Robert grabs his chin and snarls at him: "No one leaves me, understand?! All the more not you! I did everything for you, everything!" He smashes Arthur's head to the floor, pulls him up again. Arthur's groan is hoarse with pain. "You would be nothing, if it wasn't me! I got you from that pitiable situation that you called your life!" Smash. "I gave you nice clothes, you could have only dreamt about. I gave you a room in this house, because you couldn't even afford a closet! I gave you something to eat, you couldn't even pronounce properly!" Smash. "You lived like a king because of _me_! And now I'm not good enough for you anymore?!" Smash.

Silence after that. Arthur's head is throbbing and spinning and shattered. His vision is blurry and breathing is an effort almost not worth making.

"Oh, that's it." Robert is suddenly calm and that terrifies Arthur more than the shouting before. He tries to crawl, but Robert stops him. He drags him up at his shoulders to the mirror in the room. Arthur can't walk, so he sits there with unnaturally twisted legs and stares at his own reflection, which he almost can't see through his swollen eyes. Robert kneels beside him, his hand so tight in Arthur's hair that the skin of his scalp starts bleeding.

"It's him, right?", Robert whispers into his ear. "That son of a British bitch. You think he is better than me? You think he can satisfy you more than I do? Because of what? His massive dick that you have fucked how many times behind my back? You are a whore, Arthur. A piece of shit. Even less, a nothing. Go to him, let him fuck you, but don't come back to me!"

Arthur wants to say something, but just breathing hurts. He sees the look on Robert's face and tries weakly to struggle free, but Robert's grip just tightens.

"At least, he won't enjoy your face anymore, while you suck his dick!"

With unbelievable force Robert smashes Arthur right into the mirror. Glass breaks and cuts skin, splinters dig deep into flesh. Arthur feels how his nose breaks and warm blood pours over his face and smears the glass. Robert releases his grip and Arthur drops to the floor, where he lies motionless.

"You make me sick", is the last thing Arthur hears, before everything goes black.

* * *

When Arthur awakes, he is alone. The room is cool and he shivers. He is lying in a puddle of his own blood and vomit. He has no idea, when he has thrown up, but there is this acid taste in his mouth, so it must be his. Arthur lies there, unmoving, and waits for his body to stop crying out in pain, to stop bothering with his injuries, to just let go and die. He doesn't want to feel anymore, doesn't want to exist, because who cares anyway? He is disgusting. He is worthless. He is filth.

He lies there with his head dull from pain and just waits.

Something buzzes. First, Arthur doesn't notice, but then he tries to ignore it. When his head starts aching even more from that constant buzzing, he finally glances around. He still doesn't move, but his eyes land on a pair of trousers, lying on the floor. They must have fallen down from the chair during the fight. Arthur stares blankly at them, then suddenly his eyes widen.

That is his pair of trousers. That is his phone buzzing in one of the pockets.

He reaches out to grab a leg and moans loudly. With gritted teeth he stretches more and finally he gets hold of the fabric. He pulls the trousers close and fumbles with shaking fingers for the phone. He pulls it out, drops it and smears blood and vomit over it in the attempt to clean it.

_One new message from Eames,_ says the display. Arthur hits the "read" button and the phone finally stops vibrating. He starts reading the text, but after the first few words he actually can't read anymore. Tears fill his eyes and make the text swim, but Arthur clings to the phone as though it is a lifeline. For him, it is.

_Arthur, I just wanna say sorry for acting like an idiot. I know I cant have u & it was wrong to bring u in a situation like this. the feelings I have for u are deeper than any friendship would consider tolerabl, but that doesnt meen I cant be ur freind. that I have those feelings doesnt meen I have to act on them. ur prescious, darling. I just want u to know that. Pls forgive me. Dan_

Arthur has no idea, where his body takes the strength from to let him cry. Or how he could even cry through his swollen eyes. But he does. The tears are washing away dried blood and replacing the bitter, acid taste in his mouth with a feeling of salty freshness.

He cries until there are no more tears he can shed. Slowly, he calms down. He is feeling even more worn out than before, but the pain isn't that dominating anymore. Arthur wipes his face and reads the text again. And again and again. Eventually, he pushes himself carefully up into a sitting position, but his head is spinning anyway. He gags, but fights the reflex, breathing chokingly. His nose hurts like hell and is so swollen, he can't drag a breath in. His lips are split and cut, but at least he still has all of his teeth. He can't open his eyes entirely, just a little bit; the left one better than the right. He gets to his feet and his whole body is protesting. The wounds are ripped open again and fresh blood is trickling down his back, where the belt buckle has hit him. His muscles are sore and don't cooperate the way he wants them to.

Arthur is cleaning himself a bit and gets dressed. All this happens in slow motion, because Arthur has to concentrate to breathe evenly to keep himself from vomiting or fainting. He feels so tired and exhausted, but he doesn't hesitate. In his head, he hears Eames saying those few words over and over again. _I think you're beautiful, darling._

The words give him the strength to go on. To leave the room, to go down the long staircase into the entrance hall. The house is dark and quiet and Arthur doesn't know what time it is. To pull open the heavy front door nearly takes him down. He clings to the wooden door frame, sweating and shivering at the same time. He drags the cold air into his lungs and it feels like daggers slicing through his whole body. After a moment he can focus again and sets a foot in front of the other. Slowly, concentrating he walks down the driveway and further on the lonely, dark road that leads towards the city. Where Eames lives.

Arthur has to know. He has to ask Eames, if he has really meant, what he has said. He has to tell him everything and ask, if that still is beautiful. Or if it is disgusting, like himself. He just has to hear it from Eames, see it in his eyes. Then he can go and die.

Stubbornly Arthur walks the whole night, until a faint silver line lightens the horizon. There are no people on the streets; it is too early. It still is Christmas.

When Arthur arrives at the block, where Eames has his flat, he is a fevered, shivering mess. His head feels like it is going to explode. His throat is dry like sand paper and the cold air is freezing him from the inside. He is almost to weak to hit a random bell. He leans heavily against the door that pushes suddenly open under his weight. The cold hasn't let the door close entirely.

Arthur stumbles in, swaying, and pulls himself up the stairs. At some point his knees give in. He gets up again. The second time he fells, he can't pull himself up again. So he crawls. He feels how he glides slowly into delirium. His body fights against him, desperately trying to get some rest. Heat is radiating from him like an inferno. Sweat drips into his already burning eyes and makes it even harder to see. His heart is racing at an uncontrollable speed, as though it wants to break free from the prison that is Arthur's chest.

Arthur's head drops with a loud thump onto a floor mat and Arthur just can't find the strength to raise it again. Life is trickling slowly out of him and Arthur is a little angry, because he wants to do something … he can't quite remember … Eames … something … ask him something … it is important … Eames …

Arthur doesn't notice the doors opening anymore. He doesn't hear the shouts of horror or the scream of his name. He does not feel the warm and gentle hands that pick him up.

Where he is, there is only darkness.

* * *

A/N: So, guys. What do we do with Robert now?


	6. Strength

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I know it was a hard chapter, but it's always darkest before the dawn. So, you can relax, because it's only going to be better from now on! :) Btw, this is the longest chapter so far.

* * *

**Chapter 6: And I'll find strength in pain**

As soon as Ariadne gets Cobb's call, she is on her way back into town. It is the first day of the new year and Arthur is finally awake. It has been six fearful nights, where Arthur has been lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Ariadne hasn't really enjoyed New Year's Eve, sick with worry about Arthur.

Now she is standing beside his bed and she can't stop smiling or petting Arthur's hair. He still looks too pale under all his bandages and ugly bruises, but the doctor has said that he is stable and just needs time to rest and heal.

Cobb is here, too. He tells them about Phillipa and James and the disaster with the turkey. Arthur smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. There is a dark cloud cloaking Arthur that just won't go away. Ariadne assumes that it is the still fresh memory of what has happened to Arthur. Neither Cobb nor Ariadne want to breach this subject too soon, although they know that they have to talk about this at some point. But right now, Arthur needs a little distraction.

The door opens and Eames enters, who is totally unaware of the happy chatter and light mood in the room. He has been at home to sleep and get a much needed shower as well as a change of clothes, since he has been at Arthur's bed for five days in a row. He sighs heavily, looks up and freezes. Arthur is suddenly tense under his sheets, but Eames beams at him as though he has swallowed the sun. He almost flies the short distance to Arthur.

"C'mon, Cobb. I need a coffee and something to eat", Ariadne says, understanding that her two colleagues and friends need some time alone. Cobb first squints confused at her, but eventually he gets up and follows Ariadne down the stairs to the cafeteria.

Eames doesn't notice the two of them leaving. He sits down on an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes never leaving Arthur. Arthur in return studies him warily, as if he is expecting Eames to drop his smile and yell at him. Probably that is an understandable reaction after what has happened.

"Arthur, darling. How are you feeling?" Eames is jittery with relief and he feels as though his face is not nearly big enough for his broad smile.

"Ok." Arthur's voice sounds small.

Eames' smile falters. He suddenly feels guilty all over again. It is his fault that Arthur lays here, because he hasn't done anything to prevent this from happening. He has sworn to himself to protect Arthur.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry –", Eames starts, but Arthur shakes his head and turns to look out of the window.

Eames' stomach drops to his knees. He swallows hard around that lump in his throat. Arthur doesn't want to have him here, doesn't want to talk to him or even look at him. Eames understands that Arthur has all the right in the world to feel betrayed, but he at least wants to apologize properly.

"Do you remember, what you said to me the day before Christmas?", Arthur asks quietly, still refusing to look at Eames.

"Of course I do." That is after all the reason, why Eames feels so bad. He has put Arthur under pressure despite knowing he has had absolutely no right to do so.

"Did you mean it?" Finally Arthur's eyes land on Eames. He has to swallow again. Never in his life has Arthur looked at him so openly, putting himself completely on Eames' mercy. Eames doesn't understand yet, what this is all about, but he knows his answer is the key to everything.

"Yes. Every word", he says firmly.

Arthur sighs and when he speaks again, it is rather to his blanket than to Eames.

"I grew up with three brothers and a sister. My father died in an accident at work. A scaffolding collapsed on top of him. I was thirteen, my sister a couple of months old. We didn't even have enough money for a decent funeral."

Eames is a little taken aback by the sudden change of the topic, but he listens nonetheless.

"I started working in a convenience store when I was twelve. The owner liked me and he showed me some tricks on his computer. When I was sixteen I quit highschool. Actually I wanted to go to college, but as we never could have afford it, I thought it was better to start working full-time as soon as possible. My brothers were all working as well by then, but we still had a lot of debts to pay. It just didn't seem to get any less, despite how hard we drudged. I've moved to the city and did every sort of job I could get, but it was never enough money to feed me, give me a place to live _and_ send a fair amount home to my Mum, John, Bill, Tommy and Sarah. So I lived on the streets. I even stole. There weren't many people, who wanted to employ an uneducated homeless thief.

"I met Mal by coincidence and she was so friendly to me. I thought that I didn't deserve anyone being nice to me, because I did all those shameful things. But she was willing to give me a chance at their detective agency. First, as an administrative assistant, later – after I hacked some databases and provided them with the much needed information – as IT specialist. I was able to rent a tiny flat and make an honest live. It was so much more than I ever dared to hope for.

"And then, one day, I met Robert Fischer. He was at a vernissage, where the Cobbs dragged me with them. I was wearing one of Cobb's old suits and my worn sneakers. I still don't know, why Robert noticed me, but I felt like Cinderella. I was a nothing, I hadn't even enough money to buy myself a suit; he was that glamorous billionaire everybody longed to talk to. We had sex in a broom closet and I thought I was going to die. It took my breath away that he wanted me, of all people.

"After that we met several times. He would call me, when I least expected it and I would go to him. One time, we had actually sex on the backseat of his Rolls Royce; he said he couldn't wait until we were home. He always had a gift for me. First it was some technical device or a perfume or scandalous expensive pralines. After a while he got me designer clothes and tailored suits. I was nearly bursting with happiness. I was so in love with him, at least I thought so. He overwhelmed me every time I saw him; he made me feel _special_. I had never allowed myself the luxury to fall for someone, because I didn't have time for that sort of stuff. My family needed me, so I worked. But now I had enough money to live and still send my family a decent amount each month, because Robert was there to support me.

"After a year or so of irregular meetings, he said to me that he was the only one, who was allowed to fuck me. For me it was as if he'd say 'I love you', because he wanted me for himself and for him alone. I figured we were together, when he gave me a room in his house. Of course, there were other girls or boys Robert would bring home with him occasionally. But I didn't dare to ask, too afraid he would leave me. When I finally did ask, he was so charming. He took me out for dinner and we fucked the whole night and everything was ok again.

"Then he brought this girl home, more than once. I saw them together laughing and I was so jealous. I went to Robert and asked him to stop seeing this girl. It was the first time he hit me. It was just a slap, but it shocked me to the bone. He saw this girl several more times, until he was tired of her. I didn't say anything to Robert's one night stands again, but it was as if there had been a line crossed irrevocably. When Robert was in a bad mood, he would take it out on me. Not always and sometimes he just yelled. I constantly thought about what I had done this time to upset him or how I had provoked his anger. He always would apologize afterwards and I forgave him every time. I was too afraid to lose the only person, who has ever loved me outside my family. Of course I knew that the Cobbs loved me, too, but that wasn't the same. They had each other. I was so selfish. For the first time, I had something for myself, so I clung to him and I almost destroyed everything.

"And then, you came along."

For the first time since Arthur has started his story, he looks Eames in the eyes. They are unreadable, deep like the ocean and Eames can't help it as he drowns again in their intensity.

"First, I didn't like you. You annoyed me; you were lewd and too careless. Then I hated you, because you kissed me and made Robert beat me up again, more brutally than he ever did before. Normally he would pay attention, where he hit me, not wanting to leave bruises everyone could see. But that night he was furious. And when I finally made up my mind to go to Ariadne, it was you, who opened the door. It was like a slap in the face again. I thought I have to kill you. You messed up everything and I didn't want your help or your pity. And then you said all those things to me that made me feel … _warm inside_ like nothing did ever before. I didn't know what to do or think of you anymore." Arthur drops his gaze back to the blanket.

"Against my expectations, you held your word and told no one about Robert. You acted friendly towards me and I didn't know, why you suddenly did this, because you were just there, not pitying or instructing, but … you know, standing at my side. It made me feel safe, stronger. Robert didn't have much time for me, but for the first time it didn't bother me.

"And then, you kissed me again", Arthur whispers. His voice is a little hoarse from all the talking. Eames gives him some water and Arthur drowns it in two gulps.

Eames stands up to refill the cup. He is nervous like hell and doesn't know what to feel right now. He is fearful, where Arthur's story will go. But there is also hope blooming in his chest, fragile and frail, and he hasn't the strength to crush it. Still, there is the painful guilt that it was his fault that has brought Robert up against Arthur. When he returns with the cup, Arthur thanks him with a small smile that make Eames knees turn into jelly.

"Arthur, I'm sorry that –", but Arthur interrupts him again.

"Don't be, Eames. I kissed you back, remember?"

As if Eames will forget _that. _

"It scared the shit out of me, how right it felt being like this with you."

Eames' heart literally skips a beat as he hears this. He can't help the smile from stretching across his face, or the hope from growing stronger inside him.

"All of a sudden I was uncertain. Uncertain in my feelings for Robert and uncertain, what it was that I felt for you. But I couldn't leave Robert. I owed him everything; it would actually be betrayal to go. He helped me achieving the life I have now and it just didn't feel right to do such a thing to him. So I left you there in the snow the day before Christmas. I wanted to leave all my uncertainties behind with you, all the confusing feelings only you seemed to be able to cause.

"But I couldn't get your words out of my mind. That night I asked Robert, if he thought that I'm beautiful."

Eames' breath gets caught in his throat. His heart hammers against his ribs so loud that Eames wonders if Arthur can hear it, too.

"What did he say?", Eames breathes, almost too afraid to hear the answer.

"He said I look attractive. I told him that this wasn't what I had meant. He said that he didn't see any difference." Arthur's voice is tight. He locks eyes with Eames, who takes Arthur's hands carefully in his own, stroking smooth circles into the palms with his thumbs.

"When I said that I didn't want to be with him anymore, he flipped out. He was so furious that I thought I was going to die surely. If not from the beating than from my injuries. I hated feeling so powerless, but at the same time I thought I deserved it. I hated my feelings and I hated myself and I wanted to die. And then I got your text."

"Oh fuck", Eames croaks out totally overwhelmed by his guilt. He stares at Arthur, who looks so young and small on the bed, nothing like the cool, calculating co-worker he knows. Not even like the sensible soul that lies underneath that mask. Eames hovers for a moment, before he climbs onto the bed to Arthur and holds him as tightly as he dares against his chest, where his heart is still beating wildly. Arthur doesn't hesitate; he clings to him desperately and Eames drops kisses on Arthur's head, while he lets tears slide silently down his cheeks. They sit like that for what feels like eternity to Eames. He wouldn't mind sitting here forever, Arthur in his arms, warm against his chest.

"You don't deserve anything, what Robert did to you, you know that, yeah? Nothing in the world can justify this!"

Arthur doesn't answer.

"Arthur? This is _not_ your fault, understand? You mustn't blame yourself for anything that Robert did! He had absolutely no right to treat you this way, ok?! He's a heartless bastard, who doesn't value one bit of you!"

"But I'm nothing! I'm a homeless little boy from the country, who couldn't even finish highschool and on top of that, I'm a thief! I'm a selfish man, who wanted more than he deserved. Do you still think that is beautiful?", Arthur asks with a desperate voice.

Eames pulls away slightly, so he can look Arthur in the eyes. His voice is soft and tender as he answers. "You're not nothing. You achieved so much in your life alone with your determination. You wanted to help your family and you gave up all your dreams to be there for them! You're not selfish, darling. You're the most selfless man I know. This is what makes you so beautiful. I love your sharp intelligence and your strong will that shines through your eyes, making you the most amazing, wonderful and fantastic person I know. I adore every smile you share with me, because it makes my heart flutter and I feel ridiculously happy. You're precious, Arthur, built with a beautiful mind and a lovely soul. I was so afraid that you would never open up those gorgeous eyes of yours again and I would never be able to tell you that … that …"

Eames' voice breaks with an embarrassing little sob. He has to touch Arthur just to reassure him that this isn't a dream, that Arthur is really awake again. Arthur gently strokes away his tears as though _Eames_ is the one, who should be taken care of.

"I'm in love with you, Arthur."

Arthur freezes and stares wide-eyed up to him. Then his expression turns from surprise to disbelief to sheer sadness. He leans up to kiss Eames on the corner of his mouth. Eames thinks his heart breaks at the intimate gesture; it is the bitter sweetest thing anyone has ever done to him. Arthur may be grateful that he is there for him, but he is not more than a very good friend. He doesn't expect Arthur to love him back, because the memories are still too fresh and vivid, but the look in Arthur's face nevertheless hurts him to the bone. The hope that has blossomed in him, withers and dies. It has never been so hard to accept a rejection, but he knows Arthur isn't ready for this and maybe he will never be. Because Eames will always remind Arthur of Robert and what he has done to him.


	7. Kill

A/N: So, here I am again! Thank you for your loyal fellowship! :D After the last chapters, I hope this one is a little more fun to read.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Hey, may I kill you**

Arthur has taken an unlimited break from his job after he could leave the hospital. He has gone back to his family since he hasn't visited them for a long time. Everybody understands that.

What no one understands is the fact that Arthur has done nothing regarding Robert. He doesn't sue him for compensation for personal suffering. He doesn't report Robert to the police for abuse and grievous bodily harm. He doesn't make the case public in any newspaper. He just has gotten his belongings from Robert's mansion, gotten rid of all the gifts Robert ever gave to him and never talked to Robert again. They all can't understand it, but they try to respect Arthur's choices.

For Eames the hardest thing is to wait. He doesn't know if Arthur ever returns to the agency after his vacation. Despite an e-mail every now and then to the whole team, he hears nothing. He tries to give Arthur the time and distance he needs, but it is hard not to call him.

Every time Robert is smiling down on Eames from a photo or the television, Eames wants to smash something. Most of all Robert's face. It makes him hopping mad that Robert seems to get away with what he has done to Arthur. It is only his promise towards Arthur that keeps him from punching Robert into his arrogant face, and the hope that Arthur wants to do it himself.

There have been several heated discussions between Eames and Cobb, Eames and Saito, Eames and Ariadne or all of them together. It makes him fucking frustrated and Eames can feel that his life is on a downward spiral. If he doesn't do anything, he will crash.

So he joins the MMA club to let off some of his steam. He finally throws away some of his paisley shirts, but only the ones Arthur hates the most. He gets himself a dog, a bull terrier mix named Oy. Oy keeps Eames on his toes, which is good, because he can't permanently wonder if Arthur is alright or misses him. All in all, life is acceptable.

* * *

One day in September, Cobb goes with Eames, Ariadne and Saito to a high-class restaurant to discuss some case. Actually it is Saito's choice of restaurant and as he wants to pay anyway, no one argues. They are halfway through their desserts as Ariadne suddenly chokes on her Gateau Opera with affogato.

"Look who just honours us with his presence", she says, her voice full of disdain.

Everybody turns around to see Robert walk in with a blonde girl at his side and some businessmen trailing behind them.

"Well, nice meeting, everyone, but I'm afraid, I have to go now", says Eames, eyes firmly on Robert and gets up.

"No! Eames!", Ariadne hisses.

"Eames, he's not worth a fine for a brawl in a restaurant!", Cobb says warningly, but Eames is halfway to Robert's table. As he reaches the couple, he pushes his anger to the back of his mind and feigns a surprised expression on his face.

"Robert?", he proclaims just a little too loud, so everyone can hear him just fine.

Robert looks up with a blank face. He has absolutely no idea, who Eames is.

"Oh my God, it's really you! Do you remember me? Oh, you _must _remember me!"

Eames presses his hand on his chest, above his heart, as if he is hurt by Robert's bewildered look.

"We had such wild times together, Robbie! Do you remember how we met in this sauna? Oh my gosh, this guy was practically _eating_ your … I mean, wow, I've never thought I'd see you again! It was always such a _pleasure_ to see you at those parties; you always wore that black cape and I tell you, you looked so terrific! Thanks to you, I'm always so turned on every time I hear the word 'laser sword', you little bugger." Eames grins wickedly and gives the totally shocked looking Robert a wink.

By now, the whole restaurant is deadly quiet, everyone watching Robert.

"By the way, do you still have that piercing? Hell, that was something! Every guy at the parties practically _begged_ you to show them its effects – especially the older gentlemen. Mick told me that he still sees you there, going wild. I really have the deepest respect for your courage, mate! I mean, after that one time you caught the syphilis, you still go there! That's way to unsafe for my tastes, but you've always been crazy!", Eames laughs and then turns to Robert's date.

"I'm _so_ glad that Robbie found someone, who shares the same interests as he does. I know, my darling, he can be very demanding, especially when he's in the 'Mr Spock' mood. My _laser sword_ was never long enough! But I wish you both the best of luck for the future, since you seem to be a very lovely person, who wants to put up with Robert's psoriasis problem!" Eames can barely hold back a grin as he sees the horrified and disgusted look on her pretty face.

"Come on, give me a hug at least!", Eames says overjoyed and drags a protesting Robert to his feet. He makes sure to dislocate some of Robert's finger bones with his grip as he pulls him flat against his chest. Robert whimpers, but Eames places a steely hand at his neck and hisses in his ear in a tone that is everything but cheerful: "Even _think_ of hurting Arthur again and I swear, I _kill_ you!"

He lets him go again, smiles charmingly and pats Robert on his shoulder. Robert gulps nervously as he eyes Eames' impressive new load of muscles on his neck and shoulders. Then Eames turns and leaves the restaurant. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ariadne's open mouth and Saito's grin.

"Oh my God, that was _awesome_!", says Ariadne stunned as the others come out of the restaurant minutes later. "It really is a pity that you couldn't see that _slap_ anymore!"

Eames shrugs. "I would have loved to punch little Robbie in the face, but I promised Arthur not to go after him. So I had a nice chat with him instead."

Saito chuckles as he passes him. "Nice work, Mr Eames."


	8. Alive

A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, this is it! The grand finale! I would like to thank everyone for the support on this story, you've been lovely!  
I also want to advise you that if you're under 18, you shouldn't read this, because it contains SMUT. You've been warned.

* * *

**Chapter 8: I found myself alive in the palm of your hand**

One evening several weeks after his nice little talk with Robbie, when Eames lies on his couch, the paint stained t-shirt still on, Oy to his feet with big blue dots of paint on his back, the doorbell rings.

Eames groans. After helping Ariadne to paint her apartment all day, he can't even lift one finger anymore. The doorbell rings a second time and Eames manages to pull himself up. He doesn't want the pizza guy leave with the pizza he has so hard worked for. On his way to the door, he grabs his wallet and pulls out twenty bucks. He opens the door with a half-hearted smile and an apology for the long wait on his lips.

He freezes instantly. This isn't the pizza guy. Eames' brain can't recall any linguistic performances, so he just stands in the door and stares open-mouthed at Arthur.

"Hi", Arthur says and runs a hand through his hair.

Eames' brain is still somehow able to register two facts. Arthur's hair is shorter. Arthur is nervous like hell.

They stare at each other; Arthur shifts uncomfortably. Oy decides that this is the perfect moment to inspect the intruder. He squeezes past Eames' legs and it is only due to Eames' good reflexes that he can grab Oy's collar and stops his attempt to launch himself at Arthur.

"I didn't know you have a dog."

Eames glances up at Arthur, who smiles shyly. "Yeah, I just got him. Oy, back!"

Oy looks offended, but trolls back to sit _exactly_ behind Eames' legs.

"Yeah, that's … that's Oy", says Eames and laughs clumsily. He has his ability to form coherent sentences back, but he is far from recovering from his shock.

Arthur still stands awkwardly in front of him, looking lost, and suddenly the relief washes over Eames and he pulls him in a tight hug. For a second Arthur feels stiff like a board, then he is melting in Eames' arms and Eames can only bury his nose in Arthur's neck breathing in deeply Arthur's unique scent of smoky dark wood. After a while, they pull apart. Arthur looks a little flushed and Eames feels, how his heart jumps into his throat. He steps back to let Arthur in and promptly stumbles over Oy, who is still sitting right behind him. Eames flails his arms to gain some sort of balance back, while Oy barks at him before retreating further into the flat. Eames can feel his cheeks redden in embarrassment and he rants and raves about Oy, but he stops immediately as he hears a wonderful sound: Arthur is laughing. At him, but he doesn't mind, because Arthur's eyes are glistening with warmth and his dimples are on full display. Eames thinks, he has to die right now.

"I'm sorry", Arthur chuckles and tries to hide his smile.

"Don't be, love. Wanna come in?"

* * *

When Arthur sits on Eames' couch, caressing Oy behind his ears, Eames takes a moment to eye him openly from head to toe. Arthur doesn't wear a suit, but dark jeans, a white shirt with an open collar and a waistcoat with what looks like a tweet pattern. His hair is dishevelled intentionally and a fair amount shorter. There is a hint of stubble forming on his cheeks, but it looks good. Arthur looks good. Healthier somehow, not so pale and thin anymore. Eames is relieved to discover that Arthur hasn't retained any scars from Robert's brutal attack. At least not on the outside.

"You like it?", Arthur asks without looking up, but smirking to Oy, who has rolled on his back to give Arthur better access to his belly.

Eames smiles caught. "Pretty much."

Arthur meets his eyes and opens his mouth, but the bell rings again and Eames thinks the pizza guy has never had such an inconvenient timing before. But the atmosphere is nice and comfortable as they share Eames' pizza and the ice cream afterwards. Eames keeps the topics of their conversation light, enjoying Arthur's proximity and the genuine smiles he gives Eames every so often. Eames feels so content and happy that he can't quite believe he is not dreaming.

"Don't you want to know, why I'm here?", Arthur asks and licks the rest of his ice cream from his spoon. It makes it hard for Eames to concentrate on the question.

"Ahm … because you've missed me?"

Arthur's smile is roguish as he answers: "Maybe …" Then his gaze becomes serious. "First, I'm sorry for not getting in touch sooner, but I needed time for me. To think about everything, to refrain from what has happened. I wanted to catch up with my family, with their lives. The second thing is, I actually realized that I never thanked you for what you've done for me."

"Every time again, darling", Eames says softly. The intensity in Arthur's eyes makes his stomach twist.

"No, Eames, I … you gave me my self-respect back. Thanks to you I found the courage to say 'no'. If you hadn't sent me this text message on Christmas, I think I would have just laid there, waiting to die. You saved my life, Eames. Thank you."

Eames has to swallow hard at those words. He has never realized the significance of this little message, especially since Arthur has never replied to it or mentioned it in any other way.

There is suddenly something fluttering inside his ribcage. Maybe it is his heart.

"I'd do anything for you, Arthur."

It sounds trite, Eames knows that, but Arthur's eyes darken and his cheeks become pink. The air is suddenly to thick to breathe properly, somehow electrically loaded and Eames can feel the hairs on his arms rising.

"You signed the text with 'Dan' …" Arthur's voice is noticeably lower, which sends an electrifying shiver down Eames's spine. He can't help but to hope again. Maybe Arthur is willing to give them a try.

"Daniel", is the only word Eames can manage to choke out. His own voice sounds husky.

It is barely audible, but Arthur repeats his name in a feverish whisper and Eames can't hold back anymore. He leans forward, slowly, afraid he will scare Arthur off. But Arthur stays and he is so wonderful and soft under Eames' lips that Eames cradles a hand behind Arthur's head to pull him even closer.

Eames' heart races at a deadly pace, when Arthur kisses him back shyly. Eames doesn't dare to move and that seems to convince Arthur to throw all his doubts and fears over board and give himself completely to Eames. Their lips move together in a passionate dance and Eames can't stop the moan from escaping him. This seems to snap Arthur back to reality and he gasps for air. But Eames is too addicted to Arthur's lips by now so he takes his chance to prod his tongue tentatively against Arthur's lower lip, which trembles at the contact.

Eames thinks he is going to die, as Arthur parts his lips even further to let him in. Carefully, he explores Arthur's mouth, tasting him, memorizing every bit of it. Eventually, Eames pulls away growling, which Arthur tries to prevent with a bite into Eames' lower lip. They are both panting and Arthur's pupils are so blown, his eyes are actually black.

Arthur looks a bit shocked by his own boldness. "I'm sorry …", he stammers.

Eames can't stop his soft chuckle from escaping his lips. "Darling, stop apologizing. Or did this look to you as though I didn't like it?"

"So, you still … like _me_?"

"Arthur, my feelings for you haven't changed one bit since that day in December. And even if you say that it's too early for you now, I'm ok with that. I will wait for you as long as you need me to wait. I won't push you to do anything you don't want to do. You did a very successful job of getting your way into my heart, I have to admit."

Arthur bows his head, but Eames can see the tips of his ears turning pink. "You are unbelievable, Mr. Eames", Arthur whispers and then looks shyly up at him through his eyelashes and gives him the most heart-melting little smile Eames has ever seen. He falls in love with Arthur all over again.

They don't discuss, if Arthur should stay the night. He just does, wearing a t-shirt, which is too small for Eames after he has washed it at a too high temperature, and some of Eames' old pyjama pants that sit a little too low on his narrow hips. Eames licks his lips at this sight and starts kissing Arthur everywhere again. Arthur laughs at the light butterfly kisses along his neck and pants, when Eames sucks a mark at the tender skin, where neck and shoulder meet.

They lie in bed, talking about everything and nothing, about Yusuf's small attempts of flirtation towards Ariadne, about Arthur's family (he's an uncle of a beautiful three-months-old niece by now), about Eames' life and his struggle to stay away from Robert, about Arthur's sessions with a therapist and how she helped him to get over what has happened. It is early in the morning, when they fall asleep; Eames curled around Arthur to hold him close.

* * *

They live like this for about three weeks. Arthur visits Cobb and Ariadne and Yusuf and they are all happy to see him. They also go out for some drinks and even Saito joins them. But Arthur still refuses to go back to work – for the moment. The question about Robert is lying on the tip of everyone's tongue, but it is Eames, who actually asks it on a Sunday morning.

"I know it's not entirely my business, love", he starts hesitantly. "But aren't you going to do _anything_ about Robert?"

Against his expectations Arthur gives him a sly look over the rim of his mug.

"Just wait til Monday."

Eames is puzzled, but he waits. On Monday morning, as he fishes the newspaper from his letterbox, his eyebrows rise up to hide behind his hair line as he reads the headline.

"Ok, how on earth did you do this?", Eames asks honestly awed. Arthur eyes the newspaper curiously.

"I'm a hacker." He can't hide a grin.

"Yeah, I know, but … you made Robert Fischer sell half of his shares to donate that money into the Women's and Children's Welfare Fund! And he's going to supply all the shelters for homeless people in this country with free energy. Arthur, that's … that's just unbelievable!"

Arthur's grin falters. "I thought a long time about what I'm going to do with Robert. _If_ I'm going to do something. I didn't want to bring him in disrepute, because after all he helped me and it just wouldn't be very mature. But I also couldn't let him come off so easily. He never loved me, I know that now. He used me as a punch bag to get rid of his frustration and almost killed me in the process. So I decided to do something, he knew it was me, but couldn't do anything against it, just like I couldn't win a legal proceeding against him – even if I'd asked Saito. Therefore, I made him help people, who aren't so lucky to have someone to save them. Like I did."

Wordless, Eames pulls Arthur against his chest.

"You, Arthur, are indeed beautiful", he murmurs into Arthur's hair. He shifts in Eames' arms, but doesn't pull away.

"I still don't get it, why you wanna be with me. I lack everything you have. You would have kicked Robert's ass."

Eames chuckles lightly. "Likely I would have. But you did something only a few people would have thought of – and I include myself in here, which is a shame, really. You didn't stay focussed on your own harm; you thought about others and how to make their lives easier. I don't know, if I could have done that."

Arthur sighs and tugs his head under Eames' chin. "I still have nightmares."

"I know. I wish I could do something to make them go away", Eames replies sadly, as he thinks of the many nights, where Arthur has woken shivering, panting and panicking.

Arthur pulls away enough to look Eames in the eyes. He smiles softly. "But you do. Ever since I'm here with you, I can actually _sleep_. And when the nightmares are coming, I know they're just that, because you'll hold me."

Eames stares at him. A sudden warmth is blossoming in his chest, more intense than ever before. His heart beats with a loud 'thud', once, twice, deep and thrilling like a war drum, before it is starting to flatter helplessly. His vision zooms in on the unbelievable man standing in front of him.

"Arthur", he says, his voice hoarse. He strokes gently over Arthur's cheek bone, down to his strong jaw, following the line to his ear, down to his neck and to the back of his head. He pulls him closer.

Arthur's breath comes hitched and his cheeks are flushed. He is so beautiful.

Arthur squirms a little under Eames' intense gaze. "I … I should wash the dishes … ahm, I mean … you have to go to work … Cobb …"

But Eames knows he is just babbling, because when their lips collide, Arthur returns the kiss passionately. He almost immediately parts his lips to let Eames' tongue in, moaning softly. Eames can't stop himself anymore; he doesn't want to. The entire world stops to exist and there is only Arthur. Eames puts a hand on Arthur's lower back, drags him chest to chest and gasps as Arthur's thigh brushes against his half-hard cock.

Arthur combs his fingers through Eames' hair, as he bites Eames' lower lip, nips at his jaw, his ear, his neck. Eames buries his nose into Arthur's hair and breathes him in until his head is spinning.

When their lips meet again, the kiss is softer and full of tenderness and affection. Arthur shifts a bit, a shy grind of his hips that draws a deep, animalistic groan from Eames.

He is losing it; he needs to feel Arthur's skin under his fingers so badly right now. He tugs Arthur's shirt free and roams over every centimetre he can possibly reach. His mouth is kissing and licking and biting the tender skin of Arthur's neck, right where his sensitive spot is. Arthur presses closer, presses himself into Eames' hands and between his thighs. He whimpers and tilts his head back to give Eames better access.

"Eames …" Arthur's moan of his name makes him crazy with want.

"Eames", Arthur says once more, a little firmer this time, and pulls his head from Arthur's neck, because Eames can't stop kissing him.

"We need to go to the bedroom." Arthur's chocolate brown eyes are nearly pitch black and his voice is about two octaves deeper.

"Agreed."

Eames can't remember, how they actually make it to his bedroom, because their lips are like magnets. Arthur topples backwards on the bed and Eames follows swift, barely catching his weight as he lands on top of Arthur. They kiss slowly, while Eames manoeuvres Arthur to the middle of the bed, where he pulls him in a sitting position.

Eames peels Arthur's shirt away as if he is scared to break something precious with a sudden movement. He runs his fingers over the exposed skin so lightly that Arthur shivers at his touch, but he is arching his back and Eames can't believe his luck to have Arthur here with him. That he is allowed to look and touch and whisper Arthur's name into his skin.

Arthur fumbles with the hem of his shirt, so Eames pulls it over his head. He feels too hot anyway. Arthur suddenly freezes and Eames shots at glance at him, worried that he has crossed some line. Arthur stares at him, his mouth forming a little 'o'. He tentatively reaches out a hand to run it over his chest. Eames first thinks, it is the tattoos that startle him as it is the first time Arthur sees all of them. He has barely time to react to Arthur's heated glance from under his lashes that goes straight to his gut, before he is being pushed backwards into the mattress and kissed breathless.

"Oh God, I had no idea how fucking hot you really are", Arthur pants in between kisses. "You look like a Greek God, you know that?" He grinds down with his ass exactly on Eames' length and smirks smugly as Eames throws his head back and moans loudly.

"You … little minx", Eames tries to growl, but he fails gloriously. It doesn't matter anyway, because he grips Arthur's hips tightly and repeats the movement. Arthur's grin fades and he gasps, resting his forehead on Eames' shoulder and panting hot huffs of air onto his skin. Eames cups Arthur's ass with both hands, but it isn't enough.

"Take those trousers off, darling, please", Eames hears himself say. It sounds suspiciously like begging.

Arthur sits back abruptly, which drags another groan from Eames. Then he pulls away entirely to sit beside Eames, undoing his button and zipper, but he suddenly stops.

"Can you … maybe, can you first?" There is a flicker of uncertainty in Arthur's eyes and Eames can tell that Arthur hates his moment of weakness. He says nothing, just kisses Arthur quickly on the mouth, which seems to calm him down.

Eames makes a show pulling down his trousers and briefs. He loves, how Arthur traces every of his motions with hungry eyes, licking his swollen lips unconsciously. Eames' cock twitches as the cooler air of the room kisses his too hot flesh. Arthur watches him, breathing heavily. Eames leans in to him and strokes with his lips over Arthur's ear. He shivers and Eames can't hide a smile.

"What do you want me to do?", he whispers softly.

Arthur turns his head, so he can capture Eames with his dazed, mesmerizing eyes.

"Undress me", he whispers back.

And Eames does. He takes his time, savouring every bit of Arthur's body while he strips him down to his boxers and then to nothing but Arthur. He has to mark him, has to kiss and caress. Arthur's scent is overwhelming right now and – _God!_ – how good he tastes!

Arthur clutches his hair almost painfully tight, as Eames swallows Arthur's length with one fluid motion. A sob escapes Arthur's parted lips, which turns into a deep groan as Eames licks him from base to tip. He wants to pleasure Arthur like no one has ever done it before. He takes him deep, he caresses the tip with his tongue, he sucks, he licks, he kisses, he uses his teeth. He absorbs every noise Arthur is making like a sponge and his own cock is pulsing with need between his legs, but he doesn't dare to stroke it. One touch and he will be completely done, he knows that.

Arthur tugs at his hair to pull him up again and Eames lets go of Arthur's length with some regret and an obscene 'plopp'. Arthur is flushed – not only his cheeks, but down to his chest – and Eames can't stop himself from admiring that man all over again.

But Arthur doesn't let him, instead he is pulling Eames into a heated kiss that has his head spinning. When they part to grant their brains some needed oxygen, Arthur looks up at him with fevered black eyes.

"Sleep with me", he whispers.

Eames has to swallow. "You sure? I mean …. I won't last long, darling", he warns him, because – _shit_ – this is _Arthur_ who asks.

"I am and I won't either", Arthur replies and somehow manages to look smug. That beautiful bastard.

Eames fumbles for the lube, while he is eating Arthur with his eyes. God, why has he suddenly to be so damn nervous? This should be a special moment for both of them and he is going to ruin it, because he feels like a teenager again.

Arthur plants butterfly kisses along his jaw and neck, which distract him enough to finally find the lube and a condom. Arthur sighs as he hears Eames opening the bottle and now it is Eames, who kisses Arthur's neck and the marks he has left, relaxing him. Eames works in the first finger and Arthur bucks his hips, almost impatient.

"You can use two", Arthur breathes directly into his ear after a moment. "I tried to pleasure myself using my fingers during the last weeks every time I stood in the shower."

Eames groans loudly at that and pushes a second finger in, gently working Arthur open. Arthur's breathing becomes ragged and as Eames dares to add a third finger, he hisses a bit, but nevertheless keeps Eames close with his arms around Eames' neck to whisper things to him that nearly costs him his sanity. Arthur is almost shy about his confession; it is as if he needs to say those things aloud.

"I always imagined it were you touching me. But it was never enough. Maybe you're right and I have no imagination. But I wanna know, how it is. How you really feel like. Please, show me … _Dan_."

The last word is almost Eames' undoing. He stills and bites his lower lip so hard that he can taste blood.

Arthur pulls away his arms and Eames fears that he has misunderstood Eames' reaction to his first name completely. He immediately locks eyes with Arthur and says with such a husky voice that he barely recognize as his own: "Say it again. Say my name again, darling."

"Dan …"

Later, Eames can't remember, how he has possessed enough patience to put on the condom. Everything is heat and the taste of Arthur; their two throbbing hearts lying chest to chest; the feeling of perfection as Eames is fully seated inside Arthur with Arthur's arms wrapped around Eames' shoulders and Arthur's legs around his waist.

"Dan, I can't breathe no more …"

"Then just don't, darling."

Eames is moving slowly, almost carefully. He kisses Arthur's sweaty neck, tasting him in every possible way. He tries to hold back, to make it last forever, but when he hits that spot in Arthur with a twist of his hips, they are both lost. Arthur moans deeply and thrusts back into Eames. Eames can only grab Arthur's hips, before he gives up his caution, speeding up the pace to make Arthur moan louder and louder with every thrust. Eames doesn't know anything anymore. His world only consists of Arthur and Arthur alone. Nothing else is important despite their mingled moans, or their bodies, melted into each other, or the sweet pain as Arthur digs his nails into him.

"Say … say my …"

"_Arthur._"

Every nerve is on fire. There is no boundary between them, no differing in what is his and what is Arthur's. They are one. They are whole. They are perfect like this.

When Arthur tightens and clenches around Eames, it is so overpowering that Eames' vision goes white and he says something and doesn't know what. Arthur shouts his name and then comes all over them and Eames isn't far behind. His pace is erratic and absolutely ungraceful, but Arthur is still panting his name like a prayer and licking his earlobe and he thinks he actually blacks out for a second.

After some blissful moments in their shared aftermath of only lying and gaining their breath, Eames obtains enough brain activity to register that he is still lying on top of Arthur and probably crushing him with his weight. But as he moves, Arthur hugs him tightly, so Eames rolls just on his side and keeps Arthur close, smiling like an idiot.

"You are aware that I'll never let you go now?", Eames murmurs in Arthur's soft black hair.

Arthur chuckles. "I do hope so!"

Eames kisses Arthur on his head. "I'm so glad I got you."

Arthur sighs. "I'm so glad, you never gave me up."

"I couldn't, darling. You got under my skin."

"Dan?"

"Yeah?"

But Arthur doesn't say anything, just kisses the spot on Eames' chest, where his heart beats steadily underneath. Eames tugs Arthur a little closer and they drift slowly off to sleep, feeling warm and happy.

* * *

Somewhere in the living room rings Eames' phone for the seventh time. Eames hears it, but doesn't bother to get up. Screw Cobb.


End file.
